Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot
by Just Another Indonesian Writer
Summary: "I have never made but one prayer to God, a very short one: 'O Lord, make my enemies ridiculous.' And God granted it." - Voltaire.
1. Prologue

**["Prologue"]  
** **[Day ? - ?:?:?]  
** **[Sgt. Gary "Roach" Sanderson - DECEASED]  
** **[Task Force 141 - DISAVOWED]  
** **[Unknown Location]**

"...Roach?"

it was a rather unwanted sensation.

"...Roach! Come on, Gary- wake up!"

He was tired, and he wanted nothing more but to just rest, but that violent shaking from something, or rather - someone, was constantly keeping his consciousness in check with him. Slowly but surely, Sergeant Gary Sanderson cracked his eyes open, the sudden light entering his eyes temporarily blinding him, but they quickly adjusted themselves and focused into a floating blob in front of him. The soldier's pupils dilated and deflated for a couple of times, taking its sweet time to finally form an image of a male caucasian, staring right down at him with light but worried gaze. After a few more seconds, Roach's mind identified the other man as Simon Riley, a comrade he's been working with for the longest time, known to most only by his enigmatic codename - "Ghost".

Gary parted his lips to speak, but his throat remained too hoarse to produce any sort of noise. Simon, noticing this just stayed in his crouched position beside him, ready to provide assistance to his comrade.

"You need any help there, Gary?"

Roach swiftly lifted one arm up, indicating that it wouldn't be necessary. He needed to get his body used to and ready to react in this new situation anyway.

Speaking of _situation_ , though... it didn't take long for Gary to notice that something was off about basically everything. For one, both men seemed to be only lightly clothed, probably too light for the Sergeant's liking. They were wearing simple, plain-gray sweatshirts with a matching pair of woodland-green cargo pants with no camouflage pattern as well as a pair of combat boots. Hell, Simon wasn't even wearing his skull-patterned balaclava, his identity unmasked and clear as day, and revealing his pale, lightly-scarred and battle-worn face, already somewhat showing light wrinkles from all the stress caused by all the combat. Usually the man is practically inseparable from it, and given the situation that the last thing he remembered was having a firefight of sorts with the Russians, they certainly were _not_ dressed for the occasion.

The next thing he became aware of was how... _empty_ their surroundings were. Again, a discrepancy from what his memories of intense combat served him. He was expecting to be woken up either in the field, with explosions erupting all around him, or within the safe and sterile confines within an infirmary, but clearly this was not the case. Everything felt weird to him. The air felt weird to breathe, the unsettling, empty landscape felt weird to see. Even the ground beneath them felt weird to touch. It felt solid enough for them to stand (or for Gary's case, lie down) on, but at the same time it also felt a bit ' _cushiony_ ', the ground was soft, like stepping on a large, never-ending pillow.

Roach got up into a sitting position, while Ghost stood back up to his impressive 6-foot plus height. Instinctively, Gary's hand went up to nurse on his forehead with a frown slowly forming on his face.

"Memories still fuzzy?" Simon piped up, looking down upon the other man, who was still quiet. "Can't blame you. Also happened to me when I woke up here."

Roach gave the fellow 141 operative a confused look, as if questioning.

At that, Ghost's lips pressed themselves together before curving upwards, forming a bleak smile. "You really don't know, eh?" He took a single large breath and then exhaling an equal amount out from his mouth. "Well, how do I say this... looks like we're dead, mate."

When that statement left Simon's mouth, Roach's brain finally reconnected him back to his most recent memory. He remembered storming one of two possible compounds where the terrorist and Ultranationalist Vladimir Makarov with Ghost and some other members of the 141. Ozone, Ghost, Scarecrow, with Toad and Archer on overwatch. While the other compound, located in Afghanistan was going to be raided by Captain Price and Captain MacTavish along with General Shepherd's personal company. He remembered the shootout inside the safe-house, protecting the blasted DSM which was believed to contain all intel regarding Makarov, then the desperate retreat under constant enemy fire and mortar shelling.

It was then, Roach remembered a mortar round exploding too close within proximity, sending him flying along with the dust, fire, dirt, and shrapnel that was produced by the impacted round. Subconsciously, Gary's hand went down from his head to his chest. The stinging sensation of pain still lingering when a generous amount of foreign objects lodged themselves upon his torso and legs. He was then dragged across the field by none other than his comrade who was beside him now, and felt the comfort he felt when reinforcements finally came from General Shepherd himself. Yes, Shepherd himself personally came down to relieve them! He thought that they were finally in the clear, and they were finally safe.

But then, his mind directed him to the following events.

" _...Good. That's one less loose end._ "

The unmistakable deafening ring of a 44. Magnum revolver being fired at point blank range at Roach's torso, followed by another bullet that pierced through Ghost's kevlar and embedding itself on his neck, destroying any internal organs within, came back to him. At first, Gary wasn't even sure he felt it from all the adrenaline that was coursing through his veins plus all the pain that'd incapacitated him before. But he wouldn't forget the horror laced on Simon's empty and unmoving eyes through his glasses when their bodies were dumped into a small ditch, before being doused with gasoline and finally being burned alive by the ignition caused by Shepherd's cigarette.

Roach's hand began to shake hard, his breathing pace became erratic, his nausea rising, and he could feel sweat forming and trickling down his cheek from his forehead. At first it was mostly out of terror and and denial at the fact that they were betrayed by the General, but then it turned into anger and pure hatred at the man. The 141 had already sacrificed so much, and they've got all the data they need to finally put an end to Makarov's menace and maybe to an extend, to the war and prevent future young-blood from being spilled. But instead, there they were, drowning and their own blood and then gasoline, and then the ever soaring heat and pain from the flames that ate away and melted their clothes, and their skin.

Ghost looked at his friend with quiet sympathy. "Finally caught up... have you? That's right. That asshole, the yank... Shepherd has betrayed us."

Roach quickly looked up to his friend, his face filled with concern, probably directed at their other squadmates.

Simon seemed to understand, and he gave his head a single shake. "I don't what happened to the others, Roach," He informed simply with a sad voice, trying his best to keep neutral. "I... I did see Ozone getting gunned down on our way out from the safehouse, and Scarecrow hit by a mortar round..." Ghost began hesitantly, much to the sorrow of Roach. "Toad and Archer didn't even respond to our hails during our way to exfil... but here's hoping they got away."

The fact that the Lieutenant managed to even think about reaching out the others with all the firefight and the ensuing betrayal was already amazing enough. But even in _death_ he kept his cool. It was honestly one of the reasons why Roach admired the Englishman so much. His combat prowess was nothing to scoff at, his calm, sound and tactical mind helped the 141 team through even the bleakest of situations, his leadership earned him the respect of even Captain MacTavish, who was not easily impressed. But even with all that training and all that skills were useless when faced against an unexpected stab in the back. And who could blame him, really. Whatever secrets Shepherd was hiding, he was doing a good job at it. No one seemed to notice the signs, at least until it's already too late.

Gary followed his friend, and stood back up, but not after spending a few more minutes just to calm his nerves and accepting the fate that they have probably passed on from the world. He took one long look at their surroundings, and only the white void came back to greet his eyes. The ground even seemed to be invisible, despite his feet clearly touching it. He glanced over to Simon, who also seemed to carefully study and analyze their immediate vicinity, only for the taller Englishman to give out a loud, wary groan. Ghost then proceeded to pinch the bridge of his nose, seemingly at the end of any logical thinking capacity his mind could muster.

Ghost looked back to his friend, seeing another confused look that screamed ' _okay... what now?_ ', even accompanied with a questioning shrug.

"I don't know, Gary. You tell me," Simon replied to the ever-silent 141 operative. "If anything, hell seems to be much more different than I thought it'd be," With his arms crossed, and his accented tone was dry, but still carried sarcasm within it - Ghost added.

" ** _Weary souls._** "

At the sudden call, the two operatives hastily assumed a trained, defensive form, with Ghost reflexively raising the both of his hands and bending his knees slightly to enter a martial stance, while Roach reached for a sidearm on his hip that wasn't there. Gary shook his head a few times and followed the actions of his colleague. With their backs pressed against each other, the men's eyes snapped left and right, trying to determine the source of the voice, only finding no one but the same white void. The voice was deep - so deep that when it erupted, it sent chills down the two's spines. Yet, at the same time it also sounded... genderless, it didn't exactly sound masculine, but also wasn't feminine either. The voice also had a mighty echo to it, despite there being no objects around them to reflect the incoming sound.

It sounded almost... _ethereal_.

"Who's there?" Simon raised his own voice, trying to match the volume of the voice that called out to them, while Roach stayed quiet and kept on scanning for any incoming threats.

" ** _Weary souls,_** " The voice boomed again in repeat. " ** _Proceed forward._** " This time, the voice carried a sense of finality.

Ghost gave another weary groan. "We're not in for your games, wanker - identify yourself!" He yelled again in defiance, not at all amused if someone was playing tricks at them.

" ** _Proceed forward._** "

"Oi, I said: _identify yourself_!"

The ghastly voice didn't come back. Now, it just stayed silent completely, despite further demands and protests from the English soldier, leaving behind the two soldiers slightly dazed, confused, and also a just teeny-tiny bit dreaded at the troubles they might've got themselves into. However, they noticed that the ground beneath them started to glow to form a horizontal line, as if signifying which path the men should take. Seconds turned into minutes as the soldiers didn't let their guard down, but alas, the 141 operatives gave in - their arms lowering and their muscles relaxing, if only by a small margin. They allowed themselves to calm down from the shock.

"Crikey, if that's our Lord and Savior, then His voice is way too menacing for His own good," Simon was the first one to quip, sounding completely unamused. "...And not to mention... mechanical."

Now that his comrade mentioned it, Roach couldn't help but to agree. The voice was so emotionless, so devoid of tone or basically any form of expression that it sounded like as if someone was reading a practiced-line of dialogue, or just downright automated. Both men were then at a lost. They knew well that they couldn't just trust that mysterious voice. Meanwhile, they also were not presented with many - if at all - options on how to handle the situation they were in, and as much as they hated it, the only fact that remained was that the voice provided the best choice for them. Maybe it could provide them with an explanation, or better yet - a way out - if they followed its commands.

Ghost finally released a sigh of resignation. "I'm at my wit's end here, mate," He informed Gary, who threw him a sideways glance with his eyebrows raised. "You have any ideas, Roach? I'm not seeing much of a choice here..."

An evident look of surprise crossed Roach's face for a split-second. It was rare to see the Lieutenant being so utterly loss despite his brilliance. And if _the_ Simon "Ghost" Riley has given up, Roach let a small wave of hopelessness to wash over him. He made sure that it wouldn't show on his face, though. And instead, Gary gave his comrade-in-arms a neutral shrug, implicating that his opinion didn't differ from his. Ghost merely narrowed his eyes as a response, letting his eyes travel back down to the now-highlighted path they were supposed to take. Another glance at Roach and he simply shrugged yet again, not knowing what else to respond.

"Of all the times you have to be a silent bloke... even in death, you're still a man of a few words," Ghost ran a hand through his own buzz-cut scalp in exasperation, a sigh being released into the air, he then gestured a hand to his comrade to follow him, to which Roach did.

As the men walked in more silence, Roach added more mental notes on why the premises felt so strange. Whatever plane of existence they were in, it had no wind blowing, no sun shining. Even with his face, and portions of his arm exposed, he just couldn't feel anything at all. There were no cold wind to make him shiver, no warm rays of the sun to drench him in sweat. It was just complete and absolute nothingness. He'd think that through walking, his skin would at least feel the air around them hitting and grinding against him through friction. If nothing else, Roach was just grateful that the environment didn't have any extreme weather. If he had to point it out, his closest approximation on the vicinity's climate was just at a neutral, comfortable room temperature.

A throat being cleared, courtesy of Ghost, stopped Gary's train of thought from exploring any further. "So... Gary, you got any stories to tell? Haven't really seen you in action before Operation: KINGFISH."

At his query, Roach's eyes slightly widened. Ghost was never really the one to initiate small talk. He was all serious and business-like, even during off-duty at base. Simon Riley never really bonded with the other members of the 141. The moment he mentioned that operation, his mind traveled back in time, probably about three years ago. It was a joint-operation by the world's best, the 141 and the United States's Delta Force to capture and/or kill Makarov. It was a mission gone horribly wrong, resulting in multiple dead, wounded, or captured - one example being Captain Price. And in the end, they were back at square one, with Makarov and his influence still on the large.

To answer his question, Roach gave another quiet shrug. Followed by a shake of his head and then another shrug, as if saying ' _nothing interesting, really,_ ' He then nudged Ghost with a look of inquiry, returning the question. ' _...how about you?_ '

Ghost was quiet for a moment, hesitating to answer, but he finally gave his head a shake, they were already _dead_ anyway, no harm done in sharing secrets. "...Joined the military - probably a tad bit too early - to get out of life, then S.A.S. called, ran multiple ops with them, one involving taking down some drug smuggling operations in Central America," He let out another bitter chuckle as his recall process continued. "You'd be surprised that this isn't the first time I got betrayed by my commanding officer."

Roach tilted his head slightly to his side, curiosity rising.

"Yeah," Simon bobbed his head up and down, clarifying his earlier statement. "Motherfucker spilled and got me and two others captured," He stopped to chew his lower lip, expression darkening. "Somehow managed to escape, and after months of rehab, got back and finished the job. It was not long after I got approached by that dirty _yank_ to join the 141," Ghost finished, making sure that he put extra emphasis on the ' _yank_ ' - referring to General Shepherd - as it was coated with venom. "Then, I ran some more small ops with the 141 prior to KINGFISH, usually involving counter-terrorism and all that, and then I met you," He pointed at Roach, letting his anger dissipate and a small smile to grace his lips. "Well, we all know what happened next."

Gary gave a small nod, it was months before KINGFISH, he was a new transfer to the Task Force. A green, an F.N.G., being the most quiet operative back then, and adding the fact that his codename sounded somewhat stupid, even to the Roach himself, certainly didn't help him earn new friends. But Simon actually got out of character and approached him. The two ran several PE and training afterwards, and suddenly, a bond was formed just like that. Roach was still as quiet as ever, but he started to go out on drinking nights with his comrades more and more as months progressed. While said bond was still mostly professional, Ghost and Roach at least became one of the more closer friends within the Task Force.

"How about your family, then? You got any brothers, sisters or what not?" Ghost pressed further with his questions.

Roach shook his head a no. ' _Only child,_ ' his shrug seemed to muse, and once again tilting his head at Simon. ' _You?_ ' Still, he couldn't help but to sadly think about his parents back home, about their safety with all the battles raging on, and about their reaction when they've heard their only son has perished.

Ghost sighed yet again, talking about his family's history was never an easy thing to do. "Aye, just a small family. Dad, mum, an older brother..." He trailed off, head facing upwards in silence. "...Can't say I miss any of 'em, though. The 141 proved to be a better family anyway."

Sergeant Gary Sanderson didn't provide further gesture, indicating that he didn't want to pry too much, if the memory disturbed the Englishman too much.

"We weren't exactly close to each other," Simon continued. "And they've already passed on for some time now, so..."

With that conclusion, Roach could only nod, whilst giving a sympathized gaze at his comrade. '... _Sorry to hear that._ '

Ghost waved him off with a simple, dismissive shrug. "It's all behind me now - so no worries mate," Simon allowed himself another smile. "Maybe we can talk about this later, once this shite is over us... over beer, maybe? If heaven - or hell - has a pub that is," Ghost would've chuckled at this, but instead, he suddenly stopped his march, his softened expression hardened again in alert as he pointed an index finger forward, notifying his friend about something not far from their location. "Oi, look over there."

Gary trailed his sight to follow what Simon was pointing at, and just a few meters in front of them, they can see the light that was guiding them being split into two separate lines, presenting the both of them a crossroad of sorts. Roach frowned at this, but as usual, didn't say anything. After a few more seconds of hesitation, the men exchanged glances, and silently agreed to inspect the fork on the road. Although not showing it, through the false mask of tranquility, the two deceased soldiers felt the anxiety slowly creeping back to them. With all the things that'd happened, they weren't even sure if what they're experiencing was real.

When they approached the appointed area, the same mighty voice thundered again all around them. " ** _Weary souls, you are now presented with two choices,_** " It echoed, tone as enigmatic and mystic as ever. " ** _The path to your right shall lead you to the afterlife, the path to your left shall lead you into a new world. Proceed accordingly._** "

The two soldiers simply blinked, confused.

"Well, they certainly don't around the bush..." Ghost muttered just above his breath, making sure his voice was heard, with his eyes narrowing suspiciously on the two highlighted paths. "What the hell did you mean by that? Afterlife? A new world? What's going on here - where are we?"

The voice didn't answer.

Ghost produced a few sputtered noises, stumbling over a few words. "Th... that's it? No explanation, no context, no nothing?" He let out a grumble of annoyance when his questions were left unanswered. "Jesus Christ... quite literally, maybe," He murmured. "The Man Upstairs really needs to hire better angels, if you ask me," He commented with heavy sarcasm. "You got any idea about what that asshole's talking about?"

Roach, unsure on what to say, just shrugged - this too, was also a new experience for him.

Ignoring his comrade's ever mute response, Ghost rubbed his own chin, a thoughtful hum escaping his lips. "So, either we go to hell... or heaven - who knows - or we get... resurrected?" He stated to no one in particular, sounding unsure of his own comment. "You think this is supposed to be one of those Buddhist reincarnation rituals? Something about having good karma and all that?"

The silent 141 soldier made the sign of the Cross with his dominant hand, and afterwards, he did another shrug, ' _don't ask me, I'm a Catholic through and through._ '

"Now you're just shrugging yourself out of style, mate. Stop it," Roach's supposed-CO launched a pained look at him. "Well... they did say we'll be led into a new world, so I suppose it's safe to assume that we're not going back to Russia."

Roach shuddered lightly, the way Ghost mentioned Russia triggered his memory of Shepherd's betrayal once again.

"So... what's the plan here, Gary?"

When he lifted his head, the Sergeant's eyes met the pensive expression on Ghost's face, it was that same confusion and resignation from before, that in turn, got the silent Sergeant to think and reflect. There they were - lost, tired, confused, and well... very much dead. For one, just being told to choose between the two fates in just a drop of a hand was too sudden, and with both choices equally as intriguing, if not - worrying. There was no denying that the both of them met their end in a bad time and probably too early in their past life. He knew the risks, being a soldier trapped within what could very well be the Third World War meant that his life expectancy was cut short, but he just didn't expect his own life to be taken so soon, and by an ally no less. That fact alone was disheartening for the 141 soldier, and if he was being honest, Roach wasn't sure if he could live through another life again with this kind of memory still fresh in his mid. He had nothing to lose, an only child, a man with no real history nor achievements to speak of, no real close relationships with the exception of his family and maybe some of the other operatives of the 141. He could just... easily leave all that baggage behind him and proceed to the afterlife.

He was tired, and he wanted nothing more but to just finally have his rest.

It was supposed to be an easy choice for Gary Sanderson.

But somehow, it wasn't.

The idea of living in a new world, starting a fresh new life away from all the drama and conflicts back home, away from all the nonstop stress and gunfire that was admittedly, probably slowly driving him insane, wasn't so bad of a choice either. Even if he's basically accepted his fate as a dead person, it would be a lie to say that he'd died without regrets. He still has so many regrets, he had dreams left unfulfilled, goals unachieved. And now, anger unsatisfied, unsatiated. He wanted to live, he wasn't exactly prepared to just head over to join his other comrades, only to bring the disappointing news that they'd been back-stabbed and probably dishonored the 141, and given the situation, it was probably the only chance he's getting, ever.

And he really, _really_ didn't want to waste that chance.

Out of sheer unsure determination alone, Gary carefully lifted his right hand to point at the left fork his index finger slowly curling upwards to point at his choice.

Simon's eyes slightly widened in surprise at how quick his friend made his choice, even with the face terrified face he's making. But his emotion twisted to that of an understanding.

"...Reincarnation, eh?" Ghost crossed his arms, testing his fellow comrade's resolve. "...I see," He breathed out one loud breath of sigh. "Honestly, with how reckless you moved in practically any of our ops, I didn't expect you to value your own life right here and now," The small smirk formed unconsciously, but the Lieutenant let it slide.

Roach blinked twice, but he was fast to come back to his defense by throwing Simon and indignant look. ' _I am not reckless.'_

The smirk disappeared, and Ghost's lips pressed themselves, forming just a thin line. He closed his eyes and his jaw clenched - if Roach had to guess, the more superior officer was offering to silent prayer to whoever higher being can listen to him right now. And, he finally faced Roach with a hint of determination glinting on his gray eyes. "I'm... I'm coming with you, mate." It was now Roach's turn to reel his body back in surprise. Compared to him, Ghost had seen much worse, he'd gone through many horrors even before joining the 141. He thought that with all of the things Simon'd been through, he would choose to move on from all the bad memories and pass on.

To express his concerns, Roach lifted the both of his arms up, waved them a few times, before putting them down again, ' _are... you sure about this?_ '

Instead, there he was now, an awkward arm slinging its way over Roach's shoulder.

"After all the shit we've been through together, Gary," Simon murmured, a light smile on his face. "...I think it's only fair that I have your back now. Besides, can't exactly say that I have anyone in particular waiting for me Up There anyway."

As the two faced the left-hand side of the road, and even through the uncertainty, their newfound sense of conviction and curiosity providing their legs with enough energy to break through their doubtful state and continue their march onward. Still, after just being thrust into a situation like that and choosing the fate of reincarnation made their anxieties rise, and their own apprehension regarding the predicament silencing their own lips from any further small talk. Instead, they busied themselves and let their minds travel to new potential opportunities waiting for them, with still so much questions swirling inside. They didn't know whether they would even be reincarnated as - for all Roach's knowledge served about the Buddhist ritual, they could easily be reborn as a defenseless animal, or as a newborn infant - with their prior memories completely wiped clean.

Either way, it was a bit... exciting for the late Gary Sanderson.

"Honestly, though..." Ghost spoke up again after some time, his voice only slightly wavering, also uneased by the idea of being reborn again in an unfamiliar world. "I was kinda expecting this whole process of... being greeted by an Angel or whatever to be more grandeur," He chuckled to dryly himself, imagination running with the possible scenario he had in mind. "Shining, holy, golden beams of light piercing from the realm above, heavenly strings playing all around us, and maybe God himself descend in a chariot of fire to judge our sins and finally give us a few pats on the back for a job well done in our past lives."

Roach sent a lopsided grin to his friend's way, now that's a side of Simon he hasn't seen before, his shoulders shook once or twice, giving the impression that the Sergeant was laughing, albeit soundlessly. ' _that's... honestly super cheesy._ '

No sooner than the two's lighthearted moment, their feet rooted themselves and they refused to move when a few blinding lights pierced through the nothingness in front of them, forcing the 141 operatives to reflexively shield their eyes from the sudden stimuli that overwhelmed their senses. What followed after the light was a roaring crescendo of bass, high-strings, and thunderous percussions rang from basically every direction, then there was the accompanying choirs, singing... something of otherwordly language that sounded like high praises. The holy performance continued for quite a while, leaving the two men dazed in its wake.

" ** _Wanderers!_** " Another voice rumbled, this time different from the monotonous one they'd encountered before. And this one carried so much power and authority within it, that the non-existent ground beneath them shook from the might alone. Not unlike the other voice before however, this one also sounded genderless. " ** _You are entering the realm of the Supreme God! Therefore - you must be judged!_** "

"Oh, are you fucking kidding me-" Simon started, sensing the irony in the situation, when compared to his earlier comments.

Whatever he said afterwards was left unheard, when Roach felt an unexpected jolt of immense pain in his head that numbed all of his senses, his hands moved up to hold his forehead, hoping the contact would stop the splitting headache. Gary's eyes squinted shut, with tears coming out due to the extreme and pulsing stings. His legs gave away and he curled up to a fetal position, rolling on the ground, desperately hoping the torment would go away. He wanted to scream, but all of his focus was already occupied on trying to dampen the discomfort. For some reason, though, he could also see multiple flashes from his past, deceased life flaring up multiple times, despite having his eyelids sealed. Memories of his childhood with his parents, as a greenhorn in the armed forces, then as a force to be reckoned with along with his other brothers and sisters of the 141, and finally his death at the hands of the American General.

With all of his senses overloading from the sheer torturous pain and his consciousness giving away, Gary Sanderson managed to hear one last thing from the godly deity that did this upon him.

" ** _Wanderer, from your past life - we have judged, and the dice has been rolled. You are deemed worthy of entering the Supreme God's domain. For your just life and upright sense of justice, you shall receive our blessings. May your supplies be ever abundant. May your tools be forever polished. May your blades stay endlessly sharp, and may you never find yourself wanting. We have judged, and the dice has been rolled!_** "

When his body nulled, Sergeant Gary "Roach" Sanderson was finally glad that the sweet embrace of darkness came to finally take him away from the pain.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Okay. This has been... weird.

Let's just say that I kinda got a bit drunk, and combined with extreme insomnia and sheer boredom, I wrote this stuff. Like no joke, I started writing in maybe 1 in the morning, and now it's like 4:37 A.M., but nevertheless - hello, honorable readers. You've somehow reached the end of this trainwreck of a fiction I wrote. Keeping things simple: I like Call of Duty, I'm kinda interested in the premise of Goblin Slayer's dark fantasy, and with the help of a few cans of beer, I decided to make this. Now, truth be told, I've never been familiar with any of the reincarnation or resurrection or isekai or whatnot tropes these days, but I can't say that I'm not interested in the concept - but alas, I'm not an expert at these, and I won't deny that the ' _afterlife_ ' I've thought up here isn't as exciting or intriguing as other people's. You can probably find many, many works out there with much better starting chapters along with their own unique takes regarding the idea of resurrection.

Aside from that, you can probably tell from the chapter that this is going to be one of those ' _resurrected as an OP character_ ' or something, and yes, I'm also guilty as charged when it comes to being interested in power fantasies (Although I can at least assure you that even in fantasies, I like keep my stories grounded). However, I am also unaccustomed on writing a fic within that genre, so I won't blame it if many of you guys are already rolling your eyes at this story. I mean, the idea from this story literally came from me being drunk. Nevertheless, I hope you can at least find a bit of an enjoyment within this story, even with how absurd the idea of a COD x Goblin Slayer crossover is.

If you don't like this story, however. Well, I'm sorry for not writing something that isn't up to your standards.

Oh yeah, and sorry for any grammatical mistakes and for my limited vocabulary, as my pen name suggests, English is not my first language, so I'm sure you're bound to find mistakes or many phrases being repeated here.

And yes, I suck on making summaries. But hey, there's a game over quote reference anyway.

Traesto.


	2. Wild Lands

**["Wild Lands"]  
** **[Day 1 - 11:32:41]  
** **[Sgt. Gary "Roach" Sanderson]  
** **[Task Force 141 - DISAVOWED]  
** **[Unknown Location]**

"Roach?"

Gary Sanderson felt a strange sense of deja vu.

"Roach, come on."

Another few rough nudges on his body, and the Sergeant's eyes snapped open a little bit too quickly, the glorious, blinding rays of sunlight instantly making him regret that decision - even if it was by reflex. As he shut his eyes again, his other senses slowly but surely returned to him, though the splitting headache, a probable leftover from before, disrupted the process. Trying to dull the pain, the soldier's dominant hand moved over to nurse his forehead, only for his palm to be stopped by a hard surface, covering almost the entirety of his scalp, almost down to his forehead. With his eyes still closed, Roach lifted his eyes eyebrows, but even that was a challenge due to something being pressed against the skin around his eyelids.

Finally trying to reopen his eyes, the first thing that came to his field of vision was the image of a dark grey mask, complete with an intimidating skull-face printed or painted on it, as well as a pair of muted-green tactical headset that protected his ears, and reflective glasses that mirrored the sunlight and Gary's own face on it, - or at least, he assumed the other blurred, unfocused image of a person's head on it to be his. It was a familiar pattern, one that he'd seen one too many times during former operations. The masked face then zoomed out as the person wearing it stood back up, letting the still-downed man to see the rest of his body. The one thing that stood out to him first was the multicam and woodland camouflage mix of his pants and light body armor with some sleek-black magazines and a small walkie-talkie strapped on it, over a wool, gray zip-up hoodie - complete with a patch of his country's flag stitched onto the jacket's left bicep portion.

Gary knew of this man.

'... _Lieutenant Riley? Ghost?_ ' Ghost tried to murmur out loud, but his sore throat once again stopped any kind of audible noise to be produced, instead his jaw just moved itself up and down, to supplement, the downed man lifted a weak finger to point at him.

The individual pivoted his head back down, noticing the awakening Roach. "About time you woke up, mate," His accented voice was also somewhat groggy, but sounded conscious enough. The masked man extended a supporting hand to him. "Come on, up you go."

Gary accepted the offer by plopping his right hand to his. Ghost grunted as he exerted more power to hoist him back up to his feet. Seeing his own gloved hand, it was then Roach also noticed his own set of clothing, a similar dull gray wool hoodie protected by a set of woodland-green plus multicam vest, fitted with kevlar plates made to cushion blows from other firearms. Looking down, his pants were also colored in a similar camouflage pattern as his vest that was thankfully not overbearing, while his feet were covered by a pair of all-weather military boots. While a quick inspection via a hand to his face suggested that he was also wearing a full-face balaclava that only revealed his eyes, and even then any exposed skin was quickly shielded by his own pair of goggles with reflective lenses, similar to Ghost's glasses to obscure their identities. Roach also felt his helmet still strapped on and defending his skull. Now, the thing is, this set of clothes was all too familiar for the man.

It was the same gear they carried whilst storming Makarov's safehouse in the Russian-Georgian Caucasus mountainside.

 _Wait._

 _...Makarov's safehouse?_

Roach immediately looked around their surroundings, his eyes greeted with the sight of a peaceful forest environment. Tall trees and lush green blades of grass stood proudly on their right, and an opening to a curious case of a natural rock cave was to their left, they were standing on some sort of clearing just between the two somewhat differing biomes, there were no roads as far as his vision could see, only some rough patches of carved dirt paths that didn't even look like it was made to be traversed by modern cars, only as a semblance of direction for hikers and the like. Looking above, Gary saw the blue skies and the thin white clouds that didn't do much to shield the earth below from the golden warm rays of the sun.

Birds sang and chirped around them, the gentle breeze felt good and comforting. Even through his balaclava, Gary could breathe the air just fine, and his lungs appreciated the fresh intake of oxygen being pumped within. It somehow felt... _right_. Compared to the earlier memory of being trapped in limbo between life and death from earlier, at least. Just thinking of that certain memory brought the pain back to Roach's head, he wasn't even sure that what he'd experienced before was a dream - even he was not sure on how to process their immediate circumstances, for concluding with his quick assessment, they were not in the Russian highlands anymore, and he was uncertain on what to do with this information.

"Done sightseeing, Roach?" Ghost commented, sounding both amused and impatient for some reason. Looking back at the taller Lieutenant, Roach could only see the ever-unsettling, ever-grinning face of his skull balaclava. The man was pulling a string, and over his shoulder, he produced the Task Force's signature, and standard-issue weapon, a gray Remmington-manufactured Adaptive Combat Rifle, shortened simply to ACR. The Lieutenant inspected his assault rifle, carefully looking for any dirt or dust that could cause the gun to jam, or obstruct its magnifying ACOG sight, then he pulled out its magazine, revealing the 5.56x45mm cartridges stored within.

Roach raised the both of his hands to torso level, palms spread open and fingers uncurled outwards, and with this head tilted, it was as if he's silently asking a confused question.

Ghost saw his inquiring gesture, and understood the idea that he was probably looking for an explanation, but he ignored it for a moment in favor to completing the check-up of his firearm. Satisfied on the weapon's condition, at least for now, he deftly inserted the magazine back to the waiting slot, and pulled the charging handle backwards. A satisfying and weighty ' _click_ ' was heard, and with his rifle's chamber fed with the first bullet, Ghost flipped the safety switch back on and released his fingers from the trigger, opting the hold the gun up by its magazine port with his left hand on the clip slot. Probably looked untrained and unwise for some, but looking professional was the last thing Ghost wanted to do in their predicament anyway - and not that Gary would've cared, much less comment on it too.

With his attention now fully turned to the Sergeant, Ghost finally answered, "Yeah, as far as I'm concerned, we're not on Makarov's compound anymore... if that's what you're asking," He also twisted his head around, taking quick glances on their position. "...And I have no idea where we are right now. From the warm temperature, and the trees, and this clearing... seems like we're transported to some tropical plains or rainforest or what not..." He paused, after watching the Sergeant still holding his head. "...Uh, you alright there, mate?"

Roach nodded, the headache would subside later. Right now, he was more focused on their own immediate physical well-being. He didn't see any wound marks or bullet holes present on their clothes, and that was strange. He remembered taking a few stray shots on their way out from the safehouse, then followed by multiple shrapnels from the mortar round, and not to mention, ensuing betrayal and killing shot delivered from General Shepherd's revolver would've easily left some sizeable, unimpressive craters within their body - he even patted his own torso a few times, scanning for said wound, only finding none of such. Their bodies were left in - or rather, restored to - pristine condition. No sore muscles, and no other bodily harm to speak of, except for the headache.

The silent 141 operative absently scratched the bugging question of being reincarnated into another world as another being entirely off his head. If anything, the experience so far had just been nothing but painful and confusing. Yet, all of this still seemed unreal for the Sergeant.

Gary then tilted his head again to ask another question after calming himself down, ' _what happens now, then?_ '

"...Hell if I know," Ghost muttered grimly, noticing Roach's actions which reminded him of his own experiences with the .44 magnum round. However, his instincts and survival training kicked in, replacing the dark thoughts. "We... should probably figure out where we are first. I'd say getting to high-ground or getting to a better clearing should help - maybe establish contact with the locals..."

Observing the Lieutenant scurying for potential options, Roach got the idea to key his own walkie-talkie, it seemed to be in working condition as well anyway, ' _how about radioing in or sending an S.O.S. signal?_ '

Simon took note of this and waved it off dismisively. "Already tried the radio a few minutes ago, nothing but static. Not even sure if there are active radio waves in this place."

' _That sucks,_ ' The Sergeant's shoulder slumped forward slightly, and his head shaking left and right - disappointment evident through his gestures, despite his hidden face.

Ghost's throat gave a singular low rumble, releasing a noise similar to a grunt and a chuckle at the same time. "I'm just glad the air here is breathable... by the way, we probably need to move, place is too open. How's your inventory?"

Roach finally realized he hasn't went through his own equipment yet. Probably it was the fact that they were in no immediate danger at the moment, but still, taking this long for the Sergeant of one of the best and deadliest Task Force on the entire earth to register upon this was quite embarassing to himself. It was also then he felt the familiar weight of his weapons just placed on his back. Pulling one sling to his left, he reached out and pulled his own ACR, the similar model and color to Ghost's own, but his own assault rifle has an attached EOTech Holographic Sight on its top rail in place of the stock iron sights, while its underbarrel rail had an M203 40mm grenade launcher latched onto it. Roach noted that this was the same weapon he'd been carrying during the assault on Makarov's safehouse. Mirroring Simon's actions earlier, he did a quick check on the firearm, just to make sure that it was still in working condition. Everything felt responsive, the triggers for both the rifle and the grenade launcher were still sensitive, no foreign material had settled upon any crucial parts of the weapon, the rifle was currently in no apparent need for extra ammo, and the safety also worked in keeping the weapon from any sudden unwanted discharge.

Moving to his other side of the shoulder, Roach remembered fancying a M14 EBR upon their arrival on the Georgian/Russian mission site, just sitting idly and unused by the assigned marksmen of the operation, Toad and Archer. So, like the examplary soldier he was, Gary simply snatched it for himself. For the record, the Enhanced Battle Rifle did help him during long-range engagements and the screening of the invasive force upon Makarov's house. He was no stranger to the American rifle, being deployed numerous times with it - one notable time being the raid on the Russian nuclear submarine just literally a day before their attempted siege on Makarov's supposed abode. He was also proficient in working with the Designated Marksman Rifle, or other long-range weapons in general, though obviously not as the aforementioned snipers.

Storing away his ACR, and grabbing the familiar chasis of the black and tan-finish EBR, Gary Sanderson silently repeated the process with it, its magazine still filled with the larger 7.62x51mm rounds that could pierce through armor and skin with relative ease. Inserting the clip and making sure that the safety was on, Roach then finally reached for his sidearm, an Italian-made, Beretta-manufactured, and U.S.-adopted M9 that was stored on the holster situated on his right hip. A small weapon, but still a force to be reckoned with. The weapon'd proved to save his own life more times than he could count during sudden and close-range engagements when his rifles ran out of ammo.

Finishing his check-up, the Sergeant idly patted his protective vest and checked on his waist a few more times. His fingers feeling the familiar sensation of touching some extra spare magazines and the rounded as well as the angular objects that were his M67 Frag Grenades and M84 Flashbangs respectively. And his utility pouch on his back waist still carried within it adequate medical supplies and other utility items. A few bandages and dressings as well as a several tubes of morphine auto-injectors and even a small field-sugrery equipment, and finally a personal, small-sized Night Vision Device, the AN/AVS-6 that he could easily install on his helmet, or just strap on his head during low-light engagements.

All in all, even though lacking in proper exploration or long-distance travel gear, or even ration packs, Roach concluded that he was still readily stocked. A peculiar feeling, for he was sure he'd expended most of his supplies and ammo during the fight on the Russian border.

But in the end, Gary Sanderson wouldn't complain about this generosity provided by the forces above. He gave a thumbs up to mutely signify his status, ' _all good here._ '

Facing Ghost, who'd just completed his own check on his Benelli M1014, a weapon he'd liberated from Makarov's personal armory to use on the defense, he gave a nod back to him. He then pulled out a compass from one of his hoodie's many pockets. "Right then, judging from the sun, I'd say we're still ways off from dusk, so maybe right now, we should head north through the forest, see if we can find any civilization in the process. Hopefully-"

His words were cut short by a single, high-pitched scream of pure terror - obviously feminine by origin, followed by a frenzied scream that sounded like a war cry from... _something_. The sound came from inside the cave just to their left, and was loud enough to echo through the narrow walls within and be carried over outside, startling the two armed men. Once again, their military instincts kicking in, the two 141 soldiers assumed a defensive position and readied their ACRs, eyes immediately trained and looking through the magnifying sights of their own respective weapons, the safeties off, and the barrels of each weapon cautiously trained on the cave entrance, seemingly ready to fire upon it the moment something sprouted out.

"...I'm... just gonna go ahead and guess that voice didn't came from you," Simon supplied carefully, eyes scanning the general area the sound came from. "And that... didn't sound good."

Roach shook his head, '... _no shit,_ ' He then trailed his eyes to face Simon, without completely turning his head away from the cave, ' _what... what should we do?_ '

Even with the sudden adrenaline rush, both men couldn't help but to feel the dread slowly overcoming them. Here they were, literally just awoken after being transported from... whatever the place they were in before, and supposedly - away from all the combat and firefights back home, but not even an hour into their awakening in this strange world, eerily similar to earth, they were forced upon another potential fight. Now, they were presented with another spoke - albeit unspoken. Whether they should value their newly given lives and retreat to a safer place, or to explore the unknown that was the dark cave they're looking at, risking wasting their chance on living in peace and potentially enter combat with what could be the world's native inhabitants.

They weren't even sure if the voice came from a human being; a new world brought with it new unimaginable possibilities.

Ghost shook his head a couple of times. "Tehcnically... since we're basically in a new world, we don't have any obligations to save any civilians here, but..." He paused, calmly reassessing the situation, again and again - trying to pick the best choice for them, he thought quick and fast, for every second they wasted could potentially worsen the situation. "...Fuck!" He spat bitterly, but his tone carried an air of finality. "Damn it, Roach, cover me; I'm taking point. If we're going to gather live intel, might as well do it now." His voice turned cold, calculating, and emotionless back to being the commanding Ghost everyone knew in the 141. "Safeties off, but fingers off the trigger unless hostile intent is clear."

This drove Roach to follow suit, pushing all the negative thoughts aside, he gave just a single stoic nod to confirm the order that Ghost didn't wait for - as the man already began his march inside. He couldn't help but to feel his heart sinking at their predicament. Gone were his hopes to live his new life free from his gun. In the end, he shook his head and gritted his teeth beneath his balaclava. This wasn't the time to be demoralized just by his own selfish thoughts, and he'd learned to trust Ghost's judgement - despite knowing that this choice just now most likely stemmed purely from his gut. Even if the danger was upon them, he wasn't going to let this chance to live again slide.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, mate," Simon whispered in front of him, leaving Roach shocked at how genuinely regretful he sounded.

It only served to drove his conviction to burn even brighter.

They would have to survive, one way or the other.

* * *

 **[Day 1 - 11:39:07]  
** **[Porcelain-ranked Adventurer "Priestess"]  
** **[Warrior's Team]  
** **[Goblin Cavern]**

Everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong for the Priestess.

It was supposed to be a simple job, it was only her first day as an Adventurer, after all - she even had a team that while also only consisted of fellow Porcelain Adventurers - was also filled with relatively skilled fighters. There was Warrior, while loud, brash, and possibly uncalculating - looked to be proficient with his longsword, then there was Fighter, a martial artists who could easily bash in whatever enemies that escaped Warrior's blade with her swift and hard kicks, and then the prodigy that was Wizard, able to cast destruction spells that can down even the stronget of low-leveled enemies and not to mention, she also had their flanks covered from behind, finally there was her, Priestess, acting on a support role for the team - able to heal minor wounds and illuminate the dark caves through her miracles, granted by Earth Mother, she was specifically placed just before Wizard, so everyone was certain her back was secure.

Only that it didn't.

She was an uncertain person by habits - something that she would always do her best to improve on, and while she'd already voiced her concerns regarding the missions, she still followed Warrior's lead anyway to join his team on this extermination mission - without preparation, no less. Goblins were among the weakest monsters, to the point that one could argue that Giant Rats or Giant Roaches were to be feared more than the green creatures. And under normal circumstances, she would've agreed - a Goblin's strength was probably equal to that of a still-growing child, and they were not exactly smart, by Earth Mother, most adult Goblins weren't even capable of forming basic words in speeches.

But the one thing that most books and people seem to forget was the fact that Goblins are extremely deadly when they move in packs - they breed fast, and they breed many. With sheer numbers alone, they could probably fell even the most experienced Adventurers in due time, and while lacking in complex brain capabilities, they are certainly not brain-dead, they wouldn't just stand in wait while their enemies slaughter them, and what they couldn't take down with force, they used their basic instincts to group together and form tactics that are oftentimes - unconventional and unpredictable. Their small size also meant that they're also nimble and light on their feet.

Accompanied by their overconfidence, these things led to the team's downfall, and it all happened just within minutes. First, they didn't expect a Goblin ambush from right behind them, even with Wizard's confidence that their backs were clear. It caused her gut to be stabbed, and while it didn't look lethal, her condition was worsening by the second - even with Minor Heal already casted. Then, there was Warrior, overcame with his rage, just slashed wildly with his longsword and almost hitting Fighter in the process, alas his blade proved too be to long, as one of his swings impacted against the hard surface of the cavern's walls, disarming him - this was quickly followed by the Goblin horde immediately closing in to mangle his defenseless body. Fighter attempted to hold the Goblins back, as Priestess brought the injured Wizard back out, and for a couple of moments her coordinated kicks landed true and held the Goblins at bay. She just wasn't expecting a Hogoblin to be present and render even her already-impressive strength, useless.

The last thing Priestess heard from her voice was the command to run, and her horrified wails as the Goblins tore away on her clothes and ravaged upon her body.

 _This wasn't supposed to happen._

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Priestess sobbed through her short and narrow breaths, hot tears streaming down her blue eyes, her frail body hoisting the larger-sized Wizard.

It didn't take long for her own feet to give out on her, causing the blonde girl to unceremoniously fall down after just trippping down a simple nudge on the floor, something that she didn't see from all the darkness around her and her already blurry vision from all the tears didn't help her case at all. Her breath hitched as the Wizard's body also landed beside hers, face first. Alarmed, the girl hastily turned magician's body face-up, revealilng her mouth to be filled and spilling her own blood, her breaths uneven, and the light in her eyes slowly growing dimmer. Any voice she could let out just turned out to be a incomprehensible gurgle, as her throat was just filled with the crimson liquid.

Priestess's eyes went wide as a saucer. "Wh-why...?!" She questioned her thoughts aloud, it was unbelieveable. While her Minor Heal miracle wouldn't really help one with grave injuries, the stab on her gut was already recovering, it even stopped bleeding for now - but instead of getting better, she looked like she was in the verge of dying. Her tears returning after the shock, her mind travelled to dangerous realms as she thought of the idea that her prayers didn't reach the benevolent Goddess. Without much thought, she tried to regain her composure and straightened her back, her staff slowly glowing with holy powers. She had to try and heal her again.

"O-O Earth Mother..." Her prayers wavered, but after seeing that the Goddess's miracles channeling through her staff, closed her eyes to concentrate even more. "...Abounding in mercy, let Your-"

A single arrow stopped her chants dead in its tracks. The object found its target on the Porcelain-rank's left shoulder blade, the arrowhead piercing through her clothes and planting itself deep within. Her brain short-circuited, her focus now gone and all her senses yelling at the unwanted presence of the projectile. Tears once again flew out as the Priestess let out a high-pitched scream of pain and terror. Her body curled from just the sheer sensation alone, her right hand moving subconsciously to mitigate any pain it could on her left shoulder. Her scream was followed by another few more miserable groans, but her brain alerted her that this wasn't the time, for she detected a pair of Goblins approaching them through the darkness.

It was strange, usually the Goblins looked so small and defenseless due to their small stature, they barely even reached half of Priestess's height. But now, even with their midget size, they looked like they just towered over her. She could see their disgusting green skin with their pulsing veins, their wild and seemingly unfocused yellow eyes staring hungrily at them, their long and oversized nose and ears, and their mouths opened wide, revealing their dirty teeths, or more like fangs inside and smirking from ear to ear - almost quite literally, with saliva hanging and dripping continuously from their mouths at the sight of the two defenseless women.

One had their eyes set upon the dying Wizard, and instantly, it lit up with lust.

"Stop! Get away from her!" Priestess shrieked yet again, sensing the intentions of said Goblins, but her voice fell upon deaf ears if they could even understand her, that is.

The Wizard's already minimalistic robes that already provided ample view of her bosom was torn away from her, while her unresponsive body just twitched involuntarily that rapidly gained in frequency, as if she's still trying to break free from the Goblin that was already on top of her. With her breasts now exposed, much to the delight of the offending Goblin and to the horror of Priestess, it began to toy with her chest, its small hands groping on the naked breast of the Wizard. Afterwards, it tore through the dying woman's long skirt, and underwear. Satisfied with the prize that was her crotch, it laughed wildly as it spread the woman's legs wide and began inserting whatever sexual organ it has into her. Repeatedly, and without pause.

Priestess continued to yell upon it, foolishly hoping that through her demands, the Goblins would just somehow gain conscience and leave them be. But whatever she was trying to do was halted by another Goblin who stopped to look upon her, most likely scanning her body for any defining sexual allure. It gave a sneer, just a tad bit disappointed, seeing this young human woman before looked... undeveloped compared to her earlier female companions. However, that look of despair on her face told it everything, that she wasn't going to rebel on whatever impure things it had in store. There was also this strange, sour smell coming from her legs. Looking down, the creature noticed that the girl had urinated herself, her yellow bodily fluids excreted and flowing freely on the cave's rocky surface.

That only served to further excite it. The Goblin began to pant sensually, its pointed tongue rolling out along with a long drip of saliva.

All the while, Priestess's mind was so desperately trying to find any ways to break free, she didn't realize her own mistake to let her own urine free, her mind just constantly convinced her that this was all a bad, bad, very bad dream, and she would wake up soon to start another day. But everything felt too real, and even if her body tried to move, all the images of her party members getting torn apart by the Goblins just numbed her muscles. Warrior's pained cries for help as the monsters mutilated his body, Fighter's horrified yelps as her body was pounded again and again by the Goblins around her, and Wizard's raspy breathings - they all felt too real. She wanted to close her eyes, but for some reason, it stayed open, watching as the Goblin lifted its right hand up high - ready to claw away on her.

" _O-o Earth Mother... A-abounding..._ " Her voice was weak. Broken. Miserable. And her prayers to the Goddess could very well be her last one.

It was no use, her body and mind has completely shut down, she was trying to do everything all at once - but found no strength to do so. All her basic instincts of survival screamed at her to run, seek refuge, literally do anything than just sit there to wait for her doom. However, her muscles wouldn't respond to her internal pleas.

Two loud noises, akin to an explosion erupted from behind her. The noises were loud, so very loud, and paired with how narrow the cave was, it resounded all along the walls to the point that Preistess felt her ears rang with the two sounds, in reflex, she snapped her eyes shut, then only for her brain reminding her of the still-lingering danger, so she opened them again. The next thing she saw however, was the body of the Goblin that was almost on top of her twitching, its mouth still left open and grinning, but now, there were a pair of holes present on his body, one dead center on the chest, another one right on its forehead, both holes cut clean and straight through its flesh, leaving meat, brain matter, and blood splattered all around the floor, some even reaching Priestess's white uniform, dirtying it further from the already accumulated mud and dirt.

The Goblin's body then just went limp, it fell pathetically on the ground, producing a dull ' _thud_ ' when its nasty, possibly disease-ridden, green-colored flesh impacted upon it. Red blood began to escape from the two holes on its body, and pooled around the corpse of said Goblin. Witnessing this, the other green-skinned creature who was pleasuring itself upon Wizard's crumbled body snapped into action its eyes twitching in annoyance. It pulled out a short blade from its crudely-made leather sheath placed on its waist to charge at the unknown force, completely passing through and ignoring the still shell-shocked Priestess. The girl scuried away to the sides, avoiding the Goblin's advance, but her blue eyes followed the monster's body as it disappeared to the darkness.

And then another explosion sounded off - only once this time, but again, enough to overload Priestess's hearing senses, as her ears rang once more. This time though, her eyes just managed to capture a glimpse of orange light from the source of the immense and thunderous, resembling a small crackle of fire - like flint and steel being slammed together. Said orange light was only present for a split-second, but from that flash alone, Priestess could make up about... two tall humanoid-looking individuals? She wasn't able to make sure due to how fast the flash of light happened, Goddess, she wasn't even sure if they were actually human judging only from their silhouette, and at that, the feeling of dread returned to her.

Another puny noise of a body hitting the ground soon followed, then accompanied by multiple heavy footsteps that drew closer and closer upon her location. With her teeth still clattering and her hands trembling, the blonde Adventurer gripped her staff tight, ever cautious of her unknown savior. Her heart pounded and she swallowed a deep lump on her throat just out of her own worry, even forgetting the heat and pain from the arrow still lodged in her left arm. She didn't even dare to speak or call out to them for help - fearing that they might just turn hostile on her instead, and she did this despite knowing full well that they could probably already see her anyway. Their destruction spell or... whatever, had managed to kill the Goblin before her, and with precision too even with all the darkness, after all.

It was not long that they finally entered her field of vision, breaking through the darkness, their impossing, menacing, large, and athletic figures easily dwarved over the Goblins, one was a bit shorter than the other, but they looked like they could probably crush through the green-skinned creatures's skulls with just the power of their stomps. Even when covered under such... very strange garments or armor, she could see their toned arms and strong legs somewhat bulging through their clothes. Gathering from their anatomy, they looked human, or at least they didn't seem to be one of the more exotic alien races that were also present in her world - with one head, two arms, two feet, five fingers on each of their gloved hands.

On their hands, they carried... sticks, or maybe staves? She wasn't sure on what the gray, angular objects were, they didn't resemble any of the known catalyst used to cast spells or miracles. But she was quite certain that those sticks, that she presumed to be their weapons carried out whatever destruction magic employed by the two masked individuals. She also didn't recognize any of their worn garments, if she were to put it very simply, it looked like they just wore a simple but thick gray wool hooded tunic that she deemed uncomfortable to wear considering the more-than warm temperature inside the cave, and also an equally strange... suspender or... vest? It was pretty clear that they seemed to forgo heavy armor for something suited that's more suited for the ease of movement, as she couldn't find any traces of protective armor latched onto their torso, sans the presence of their kneeguards.

And speaking of their masks, for the even abundant love of Earth Mother, despite their strange magic, their unconventional staves, or their bizarre garbs, she couldn't tear her eyes away from their faces, or the lack of it, apparently. They wore a piece of cloth of sorts that completely concealed their faces, even their noses and mouths, with the only spared exception being their eyes, and even then their reflective eyewear also hid their sightly organs. One of them had his mask painted with this disturbing skull pattern, looking like it was smiling or grinning, while the other one kept his mask plain. Her mysterious saviors paused their own movements when they neared her.

Priestess flinched, feeling their gazes bore through her as they scanned their surroundings with their atypical-looking short staves aimed at whatever their eyes pleased. A few more seconds and she felt like the warriors's (or mages's) stares could dig right through her skin.

"...Who are you?" The Adventurer started, her voice shaking and new tears forming in both fright and panic.

The two remained silent, shared a quick glance at one another and lowered their magical catalysts , with their staves now pointing harmlessly at the ground, Priestess deduced that they wanted to assume a more neutral and ' _friendly_ ' stance - with the quotation marks. She couldn't see any identifying tags on their bodies. Were they not Adventurers? Somewhat unlikely, no one would've just randomly stumble upon this cave if they didn't accept a quest that specifically pointed them to the right direction first. They most certainly didn't look like any nearby villagers or settlers either. But still, the fact remained that they didn't have Guild Tags.

After a few more seconds of silence, the one with the skull mask raised his right hand, his thumb, index, and middle fingers uncurled and pointed forward. The other faceless one looked like he understood whatever direction his comrade-in-arms told him and strode pass the scene, he marched forward a few steps and aimed his staff yet again at the darkness in front of him, as if standing guard. The skull face didn't follow his actions though, and instead, opted to crouch down to bring his head to her level. Priestess involuntarily scooted back, her earlier memories with the Goblins still fresh in her mind, and she wasn't sure if she could trust these... men - she assumed them to be males, at least.

"It's going to be alright, Ma'am," Contrary to his unnerving, painted skull, his unusual accented voice sounded much more gentler and youthful than she'd thought. And he stated that with such... calmness. It's like he wasn't even so much as fazed at their pitiful situation, Goddess, he didn't even react when he stepped on the Priestess's... excreted bodily liquid waste, and she was certain he's aware of it. "...Have... have you got a name?"

"Pr... Priestess," The Adventurer stammered, tears still flowing nonstop, but instead of fear - they were out of pain from the arrow still sticking out on her left shoulder blade. "Who are you...?" She tried asking for their identities again.

The man with the skull-face reeled his head back slightly, looking somewhat confused. "...Priestess?" He repeated, to which she nodded twice. "Alright then, ma'am," He pulled himself closer to without touching her, the young blonde girl could see her reflection from his eyewear. "I would be more than happy to treat your wounds, but I'd like to have your permission and cooperation first, can you do that, ma'am?" He reached for his back pocket, pulling out a small, long green tube as well as an assorment of white bandages and plasters, most likely his medical supplies.

A potion injector?

"N-no, wait..." Priestess spoke up, the pain only brought her voice back down to a pathetic whimper. She pointed at the Wizard, whose bodily movements have ceased entirely. "Please... please take a look at her first..." She gasped, writhing after the adrenaline surge died down. "They... stabbed her with a dagger... and I've used my miracles on her... but it's not doing much. Please-please!"

The man turned his head over his shoulder, inspecting the Wizard's state, he then turned his head back to face the young blonde, though he did that strange reaction when she mentioned her use of miracles. "...Of course, ma'am. I promise I'll do whatever I can," He soothingly reassured her. "But given this situation... I think it'd be best for us to evacuate the area first. Can you stand? I can carry your friend out of the cave, then we'd resume our treatment once we're safe-"

Priestess caught her breath, and coughed. "Wait! The rest of my party... are still inside!" She begged. "Pl-please, we can't leave without them! The Hogoblin will tear them apart... some of the women a-are also still in the Goblins's captivity...!"

Hearing this, the skull face's head lowered slightly and the man who was guarding their flanks flipped his head over to them. She could swear she heard him mutter "... _Goblins?"_ questioningly, as if he'd never heard of the infamous city-raiding monsters. "I... I understand ma'am, so please, I need you to calm down for a moment," This strange magician held a hand up to his chest, and lifted it further above his head. "Breathe in deep..." Priestess followed his instructions without protest. His hand balled into a fist. "That's right... now hold it in..." Then the hand relaxed. "And... ...breathe out. Yes, that's it - you're doing just fine, ma'am."

The girl released the air, along with some of her earlier uneasiness regarding their presence. She shakily nodded a few more times to give an emphasis that she would be alright, given the time anyway.

Returning the nod, the skull-face turned to his other companion. "...Roach, I trust you can secure the area? Visibility is poor, so I recommend using your NVG. I'll hang back and cover the entrance. Might as well try to treat these two while I'm at it."

The other silent man, now identified strangely as ' _Roach_ ' still in his crouched position looked to his front, trying to scan through the void-consumed path of the caverns, his head was cast downwards - perhaps thinking whether he should obey or decline the order. He seemed to make his choice quick, as he ran his left hand down to reach for something within his own pouch. He pulled out... something, maybe an item, or another magical device - the so-called ' _Enn-Vee-Jee'_. It was black, small, blocky, and had this strange lens-like tubed sticking out from the rest of the device. He then deftly placed that black object on the top of his helmet, resulting in him looking even stranger than he was before.

As he worked, Priestess couldn't help but to wonder about his strange name. _Roach_. It sounded... foul, though she was sure she didn't speak out on her opinion. Was he not a human being? Maybe an actual humanoid cockroach? His body looked human enough, though. Or maybe he was a cross-breed between a human and another unknown sentient or intelligent race she wasn't yet aware of? She really couldn't find the answer, and he clearly looked like he wasn't the type to talk. Goddess, forget about his voice, she couldn't even see the man's skin under that heavy and elaborate clothing! The same thing could be said as well with this skull-masked man that was treating on her and the Wizard, though.

After finishing on his contraption of sorts, the Roach/warrior/magician/Goddess-knows-what man gave a thumbs up.

"Roach," The skull-face started again. "...Stay frosty, but be careful," His voice was completely serious, and for good reasons. "We don't know what we're facing with here, if you still have your flares, use 'em, or for Christ's sake just use your mouth and scream or something if things goes south."

Roach kept his silent gaze upon the grouped individuals, then three seconds in, he offered a light shrug and went on his way. The sounds of his boots faded out along with his silhouette soon after.

* * *

 **[Day 1 - 11:44:29]  
** **[Sgt. Gary "Roach" Sanderson]  
** **[Task Force 141 - DISAVOWED]  
** **[Goblin Cavern - Depths]**

Roach wasn't ever going to get used to wearing his NVG, he hated seeing through grained, and filtered vision that his goggles offered. But he was glad he did wear them anyway, even through the green-tinted lenses, his eyes were still having a hard time adjusting to his new darkened environment. Whether his surroundings were made using vanta-black material, he couldn't wrap his head around it, either way, it's dark. _Really_ dark. Even with his equipment, he couldn't see probably farther than ten or twenty meters ahead. It was really silent too. For what the... Priestess girl said earlier about the cave being infested with Goblins or what not, he sure wasn't seeing a lot of activity, at least just yet. Still not a reason to let his guard down, though. The soldier kept his ACR leveled and aimed, while he examined his flanks continously.

Speaking of Goblins...

When he thought that his day couldn't get anymore surreal, _that happened_. They weren't sure whatever creatures they took down upon entering the cave were, but the young woman had made it clear, even if it wasn't deliberately planned. They were fighting Goblins. **_Goblins_**. The strange midget creatures he'd thought only to exist in tales or equally fantastical stories people used to tell back home. They were _fictional_ , _mythical_ creatures for crying out loud, and he couldn't emphasize it enough. Just thinking about it could make his head swim with millions of questions, and that wasn't even counting the fact that the girl seemed adamant for people to call her ' _Priestess_ ' instead of an actual name. Technically speaking, even Ghost didn't look like he was taking this information very well, the constant pauses and head tilts told the Sergeant everything he needed to know.

Roach mentally berated himself, this really wasn't the time. He would need his head to stay clear, at least for a few more minutes. He was in deep in the danger zone, facing an enemy that could be way out of his league despite their size. Clearing his head, his senses sharpened themselves and he continued on, ever silent and ever vigilant as he did during his days in the 141. He would not have to travel far, for his heightened smell and to an extend, vision with the NVG, picked up something just nearing his location. It was the stench... of meat and blood, and lord was it strong. Reaffirming his stance, Gary prepared himself for whatever could come next.

Roach stumbled a few steps backward when the full image came to view, even nearly falling onto his butt. His eyes bulged and his body trembled at the sight.

He was a soldier that'd participated in many active frontline combat before. Hell, the last six or seven days back on his world were filled with just that. Constant fighting with little to no stop for rest in-between. The time range between one deployment and the next was within hours, not even enough time to stop and call home. And it's in that extensive combat, he'd seen much horrors of the battlefield, long-time comrades getting ripped to shreds - quite literally - from enemy gunfire or grenade, the look on his enemies's faces when he landed a few good hits that left them crawling at death's door. He'd been trained by the best of the best to not let these things affect his performance in the field, he'd been told to ignore them, as his objective always comes first. And he did just that. One could even say that his mental capabilities has probably exceeded those of the usual grunts.

But even with this so-called sturdy mental fortitude, it didn't make any of images he'd seen less disturbing.

Or this one new scene, for that matter.

Blood. Spilled guts. Torn flesh. _Lots_ of them.

...That, along with a few dead Goblins.

What he saw looked like to be a completely smashed remains of a person. Reduced into such formless object that didn't even resemble meat pile. Skin, bones, and fabric all sewn into one gory mess. It was to the point that even he couldn't make out their face or their gender anymore. The skull was smashed right in, leaving a concaved hole that punched right through their flesh. Their eyeballs pulled out from the person's sockets and crushed into tiny bits, their torso mutilated and cut into small little pieces, their fingers missing and chopped off. And... was that their genital being arrowed to the cave walls? Inspecting it more closely - much to Roach's own regret - revealed it to be the person's... phallus, that looked like it was ripped off from his crotch, and pinned onto the surface near his body laid. Judging on how the position of the organ looked rather... ceremonious, it's as if the Goblins were parading on this one poor man's demise.

Roach couldn't even focus on the dead Goblins around him. He was just too unnerved by the display of brutality and gore, and all this came just from a single person. That shock slowly turned into disgust and contempt, even if this was Makarov or Shepherd, Roach still felt like no one deserved to die in such a horrendous way. A few deep breaths later, and he managed to calm himself down. Again, this was not the time for his emotions to take over, as he constantly reminded himself. If anything, he should probably inspect the scene, try to find anything that might give him any info that might just give him an edge to face the monsters. He was no scholar, no detective, or an expert in autopsy, but any empiric intel was practically a good enough intel for him at this point, and besides, anyone with basic medical or survival training could also at least pull out a thing or two from this scene.

Looking away from the body, Roach caught glimpses of many of the scattered weaponry on the ground, all of them ranging from short daggers to, to axes, an elaborate steel sword. He easily identified the smaller arms as the Goblins's weapons - most of which just looked like a crudely-sharpened pieces of iron, or just straight up rocks, tied flimsily to a leather or wooden grip. From the construction quality alone, these weapons probably wouldn't do much damage to an armored opponent, but given the strength from the wielder, or in this case, numbers, they could overwhelm probably even the most durable steel, or just look for an opening in their adversary's flanks. Moving on to the steel sword, the Sergeant deduced it was the victim's weapon of choice. The blade was caked in blood, and its edge already dulling - repeated and careless usage, perhaps - and true enough, he could see wide and deep slash marks on several of the Goblins's corpses.

Some of the bodies didn't look like they were cut using bladed weapons, though. He could count about three or four dead Goblins with major trauma marks on their faces and their bodies - definitely came from either blunt weapons or maybe just punches or kicks. The 141 soldier also took this time to do a quick examination regarding Goblin's anatomy. In general, their body shape roughly resembled those to a human being's, with the exception of their facial structure - the elongated ears, pointy tongue and sharp fangs at that - as well as their size. But despite this, their muscles looked athletic, their biceps and thighs looked to be their main asset during fights. It was unsettling on how similar the Goblins when compared to a normal human child, sans their well-toned arms and legs.

On the corner of his vision, Roach caught a glimpse of a torn attire, the color of its cloth didn't seem to resemble the earlier male victim. Now he remembered that the Priestess also mentioned something regarding some of her party members still trapped inside, and following the garments, Roach also found a new, seperate blood splatter, much more tame compared to the bloodbath before, and the blood mark was dragged off into the darkness.

It wasn't much, but it was his most damning lead to the next party member.

Finishing his admitedly rushed, and likely-to-be inaccurate assessment, Gary continued his advance in mute anger. As the soldier treaded, he discovered several points of interest. The cave split into several, smaller branches, each leading into a dead end - it was a process trial and error for him to finally get to the correct path after the blood trail ran cold. Still, each branches proved to be large enough for several humans should they want to shroud themselves in the darkness, certainly could be used as a point of ambush. He was just relieved that each pockets of darkness didn't contain any enemy or other unwanted surprises to speak of, either the probable Goblins already left deeper or they were the ones that got killed by Priestess's party. There was also this strange... decor situated near the center of the cave's crossroads. Didn't seem to be anything other than-

With his Night Vision Device, and his body generally in a constantly alert state, Roach picked up strange movements to his left, it was... a pair of clawed feet that certainly didn't look human at all, but the shape of it and the bearer's similar anatomy to the earlier deceased monsters led Gary to believe that those legs belonged to a Goblin. A live Goblin. As its diminutive body entered his field of vision, the creature seemed to also notice the operative's presence. Through quick thinking, Roach added a new information that these creatures were also gifted in seeing within the darkness. A few seconds of awkward and heavy silence ensued as the two combatants stared each other down.

That was until the Goblin growled, baring its sharp teeth and dripping its saliva. In an instant, the green creature pulled out a rushly-constructed stone axe and yelled out an unintelligable, frenzied cry, signifying its hostile intent. The lone Goblin then leapt forward, fully intending to painfully end its prey-

Only for it to be stopped when Roach's heightened reflexes autonomously fired a single round from his ACR, center mass. The bullet penetrating through the flesh of the Goblin's torso, tearing apart any bones and internal organ caught within the travel path of the projectile. The Goblin didn't even have the time to register the pain, when another 5.56 round implanted itself comfortably inside its brain. The creature's mouth was still open and its eyes wide, though the strength seemed to carry his body left him. His axe fell right down, before his body soon followed. Any signs of life swiftly ceased, once again, letting silence to take its place.

Roach however, kept his rifle steady as he slowly approached the deceased monster, making sure that he'd double-tapped his gun just now. Confirming his kill, the 141 operative looked on forward - though as his mind wondered. He's _really_ killing Goblins. This one though, seemed to be a lone patrol, probably sent out from the deeper reaches of the cavern to scout back out for reinforcements. Whatever the case, Gary was certain that his gunfire earlier must've stirred the nest, proven at the now numerous inhuman roars thundering from the darkness in front of him. Roach gulped silently, realizing the mess he'd brought upon himself.

Curiously though, Gary could feel himself slowly losing his footing. Strange. He wasn't feeling dizzy by any means. His headache'd subsided just before they entered the cave. So what was-

 _Oh._

The ground was lightly shaking. Roach cautiously looked around him as some of the dirt and smaller pebbles flew up by a few millimeters and dropping down - all of these were accompanied by this... heavy thumping noises that grew larger every second. Settling his sights forward, Roach picked up the image of... something, quite similar in bodily structure to a Goblin, but probably ten times the size - entering his NVG-enhanced sight. This creature's muscles were much larger, whilst being protected by an ungodly amount of body fat. This new Goblin creature carried a large, improvised wooden club on its right hand. Roach felt dwarved by the presence of the monster that was at least a full foot taller than him, and was so large, that his head nearly touched the cave's ceiling.

The creature held a neutral expression, before it slowly turned into an intimidating grin, the yellow fangs that were its teeth clearly seen as more and more of the smaller Goblins seemingly spawned out of the darkness behind it, all looking ready to bash Roach's face in.

Roach mutely stared at the bigger Goblin and its companions up and down, sizing them up. He strangely felt calm despite the circumstances, there was even the weird sense of confidence slowly building behind the back of his head. A familiar feature that he'd always exhibited whenever the odds are stacked against him and his comrades back at home, particularly during his and Captain MacTavish's assault on the Russian base situated on the Tian Shan Mountain range. A 141 operative was trained to be the best of the best, after all. Keeping a sound mind and clear eyes as they take on hundreds of their own peers. One soldier was expected to kill tens before they too kick the bucket.

No reason for him to be different here, really.

Flicking the select-fire switch on his ACR from a disciplined single-fire, to the full-auto mode, Gary mutely breathed out a sigh.

There is truly no rest for the wicked.


End file.
